Dances with Fate
by All and Sundry
Summary: Set into motion was an impossible union, a mutual need for trysts in the dead of night, in any moment they had alone, in small spaces of borrowed time... It is said that history repeats itself throughout the ages in a never-ending circle... : Rated for language & sexual content. Ongoing revision.
1. Unexpected Gifts

**I**'ve read other stories that start out with a similar premise but none really seemed to have the right kind of steam so I decided to try it myself. Please note the rating details in the summary. There will be sexual content if not rather quickly... If you take any issue with such content, I would advise trying another story. Lastly, this is a revision of the original fic of the same name. Rather than take it down, I decided to replace chapters slowly. Please bear with me as I take things chapter by chapter.

I hope you enjoy the first part of the revision.

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><p><strong>. : Dances with Fate : .<strong>  
>Chapter 1 : Unexpected Gifts<p>

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><p>When the meeting dismissed, the small crew of people dispersed and the young woman was the first. Her request for funding had been denied. Again. But not a sign of disappointment showed on her face. She would try once more next month. That was that.<p>

Under the bright florescence of the place, her usually quiet footsteps now echoed as she made her way back to her department. To mark it was a worn silver plaque.

_Domino City History Museum_

_Egyptian Exhibit Hall_

The curious thing about it was the man who stood near it.

"Excuse me," he said, "I'm looking for Miss Ishizu Ishtar."

"I am she."

A clipboard was offered and she signed on the indicated line. The board was exchanged with a small package before the man bid her farewell and went on his way.

The name of the sender was one she smiled to see: Yuugi Mutou. The box was quite light and easily opened once the tape was stripped from the cardboard.

Ishizu couldn't help a quiet hum out of curiosity as her fingertips brushed the small trinket inside the box. The gold felt as familiar as her own heartbeat whose pattern began to flutter as she reached in and unfolded the yellowed paper which had been wrapped around the contents.

It was a brief letter written in such a haste there was no greeting:

_I found it while visiting Egypt.  
>Thought you'd like it back.<br>~ Yuugi_

"How curious," Ishizu murmured and placed the paper back in the box as she took the gold piece into her tanned palm where the single eye of the necklace seemed to look up at her somehow.

Then it happened. Brilliantly it flashed and glowed in every contour and link. Automatically, she'd blinked. By then all was well once more, too quickly to make any sort of sense.

Eyes drew up to the massive bright lights fixed in the ceiling. They behaved oddly from time to time, the lights, brightened intensely just before they burned out. There were a few out now, she noted, perhaps that had been the cause of the flash.

For a moment, she continued to gaze upon the item but soon placed the piece back in the box and put the box itself in a storage room, on a stack of old newspapers. There, the box and its contents would be locked away until she could decide what to do with it all.

But the museum kept open for the day and later closed in the evening and she had not decided. Throughout the day, the necklace continued to linger in her mind yet her only decision in regards to the centuries-old object was to leave it locked in the museum for the night.

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><p>Even while not present, the item returned to her mind even as she pulled blankets out from their careful tucking at the head of the bed.<p>

The Millennium Tauk had been buried in the sands of the desert with the rest of the items. Some team must have dug in the area and rediscovered the collection. This was not so surprising since Egypt was a land of such exploration.

There was no concern here where there might have been. Being how the entire collection had served its purpose, the items were simply the trinkets they appeared to be.

Old. Antiquated. Harmless.

Shame to think they might be sold for their weight in gold when they were museum-quality pieces. It came down to who had hold of each of the times. She made a mental note to contact Yuugi and ask about the others, if only just to know what might have happened to them, and laid down for the night.

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><p>All was shrouded as if looking through seawater. Sights were a little murky in parts and the sound muffled yet a single scene surfaced suddenly.<p>

It was a place formed by stones all stacked.

Steps upon their surface were nearly silent in accompaniment to the quiet snaps and flickers of torches placed along the hall. Two were held at either side of a tall doorway. The doors scratched at her skin as she pushed one aside and stepped into a room.

Here were earthy aromatics. Products of plants.

Torches illuminated longs lines of shelves. Atop each were thick tablets or either rolls of paper wound and placed in stacks.

Careful steps led around a section of shelves to one of the few broad tables here. Passing by a few different shelves, she soon made her way to the nearest table with an armful of scrolls.

Then, in a deep whisper, was a name.

"Isis."

Papers were everywhere. They hit the tabletop and floor in a chorus of soft taps and scratches. Last notes trailed after the sudden melody as the scrolls which had dropped to the floor rolled slowly.

"Set," she breathed in realisation as she turned, the fluttering beats in her chest nowhere near an end at this new knowledge.

There stood a man dressed mostly in draped cloth coloured blue or white. Either colour was lit by firelight in the library and made that much brighter by the slight tan of his skin. Tan as were all who spent time under the sun's heat.

Pointless as it was to notice, the sight was still uncommon, his headdress was missing. It was in this rare moment she seemed to take note of how long his hair was, as if the fact was unknown otherwise. Of course none of this was important save the reason as to why he was here at this time of night.

Time was indeed the only reason he'd caused a start. Otherwise, she was acclimated; he had quite the habit of appearing suddenly, as if from the darkness itself.

Sensing the question, he spoke, "I was perusing the library. The same as you I suspect."

This was still nothing in way of explaining as to the time. Awaited elaboration never came. Instead...

"Some trouble sleeping perhaps?"

The question had risen from no innocence.

From under thick strands, the man's eyes upon her were intent in the most unfamiliar of ways... But the impulse to shift her gaze elsewhere was mastered and she folded her arms.

"Some," she confirmed calmly. "The same as you I suspect, since you are here at such a time."

The reply to the echo was unexpected: he stepped near enough for her to gain sudden awareness for what height he held over her and that his arms were free of their traditional fold across his chest.

Stepping away, she knelt and began to collect the scrolls she had dropped in surprise.

"I couldn't imagine why."

His voice was near still and she looked up, watching as he joined in her task of recollecting fallen scrolls.

"There has been much on my mind as of late," she admitted. Against her will, the words had trailed quietly into nothing and her hand hesitated atop against a scroll upon the floor.

That was why he was here. To ask.

Her lips parted as she thought to express something in way of polite dismissal, she could clean her own messes, but the sounds died upon her tongue when he spoke before her.

"I am pleased to hear my proposal at least granted some afterthought despite your denial."

Such a word had more than one meaning. One, an expression of rejection. Two, protest in spite of opposing wishes… But it appeared he meant the former as there was nothing about his features to suggest otherwise.

How odd, she thought. He had not come to ask if she would reconsider?

"You went out of your way to state your… argument…" she said. "At the very least, I owed you consideration."

"Consideration?" An incredulous repetition. A laugh issued from him then, as short as it was hollow. "Spare me the floral articulations. I am no longer the fragile youth who expected such things."

"Then I suppose I shall try to speak more clearly," she stated as she added a scroll to the few balanced along her arm. Her gaze did not seek his. That was unnecessary, she told herself. "The arrangement you proposed held some merit but I would not allow such distraction from my service to the Pharaoh. You would be wise to regard it from the same point."

"Is it not distraction even without activity?"

She said nothing, crossing the floor to place scrolls back into their proper section. What he asked couldn't be answered. All she imagined was returning the scrolls and leaving as swiftly as possible. And, for a moment, she believed the subject might fall but this was in vain as she heard him continue.

"You lie, Isis," he said lightly. "You gave the matter no thought."

Turning, she found him at her side, putting scrolls away as she had. Her answer came at length, once the another scroll was laid in place.

In spite of herself, her tone was even, "There was no reason I shouldn't give it thought."

A bang sounded and echoed in the spacious chamber. Together with it, sound rumbled strangely like distant thunder.

From where it had collided deliberately, his fist remained against the side of the shelved piece.

"We have always been honest with one another. There is no reason this should change."

Change.

This was why she had given it no thought. Why she had been quick to refuse. Why it was now all she could do to keep her hands from trembling lest a couple scrolls still in her hold fall once again.

There was nothing wrong with the way things were. The way they were. Old friends. To act upon fleeting desires would not be worth the risk. How did he fail to understand?

"I did not think on it much. You made such a suggestion without factoring possibilities," she stated, glaring up at him even if her voice was as calm as ever. "Suppose this proves too much. Our companionship might be damaged irreparably."

"It could not be so easily broken apart."

For him to say such a thing with such certainty... The beats of her heart were again roused into a fluttering pattern in spite of herself.

She wanted to trust his assurance but doing so would give way to more. Something dark and unfamiliar. That which existed while most knew better than to bother with, like the arcane texts she had returned to their collections.

"Our pledges to His Highness..." she trailed.

He stepped nearer and in turn she retreated. But it was short. Two steps back and she felt the hard lines of shelves against her shoulder blades and elsewhere.

"It will only prove more distracting to wonder."

Where his hand touched burned.

His fingers smoothed over her cheek, careful to avoid the gold framing her face, drawing lower under her chin as he tilted her head up.

It was right to stop him.

But her limbs were traitorous, refusing to rise. By his action and her inaction, she saw nothing but him.

How shadow flickered along his neck when he swallowed.

How his eyes fell, lingered at her lips.

And she wondered. What did he taste like..?

As if this were to be answered, he drew nearer, resting weight upon an unemployed forearm.

"The idea exists now. Where it has taken root, it can only flourish."

His words were dark whispers as were hers to follow.

"You are so certain it has taken root?"

It had within him, she had no doubt. The way he appeared now. His eyes upon her. In the years she had known him, she had not once seen him look so...

Impassioned.

They were united in this way, she felt. Suffered the same hunger. Nothing else could explain her moment of allowance, finally, her eyes roving his face, drinking in detail, the features she had never permitted herself to look at in this way. This long. This indulgently, once was not enough...

"If it has not within your mind as it has mine, then speak now and deny it."

And she could not.

He was right.

Exiled to the farthest reaches of her mind, they were there, wicked little fantasies. Of herself and her fellow priest, Set. Together. Faint breaths amidst his sonorous rumbles in her ear. Salt and the taste of him on her tongue. Hands all over slick skin. More. Everything. Until her memory was fragments. Only pleasure and his name.

Might the future hold such an experience..?

Before now, she had scolded herself for such wishes. They had only ever been friends and imagination was better spent on others. Set had always been untouchable, someone she caught herself admiring from afar while she knew better than to give time to anything more than wishful thoughts, yet now… What thoughts she had of him. And to think his were of the same nature...

"At first, perhaps it will be difficult to accept how things must be," she began, very much hating how quiet her voice had remained, what effort it took to force her gaze up to his eyes. "But it is not impossible. In time it will die as all fires do."

There was no doubt in her mind of what she wanted for herself. The doubts came from men. All had found her too much and, by the end, bent for the sake of keeping her.

Her desire was for an equal not a subordinate.

And she would not see the oldest of her friends become like the rest, nothing but meaningless memory.

"I would not have it die. And nor would you…" he whispered. "For all your composure, your face betrays you... All this time, your lips have kept parted as if you expect some attendance to them."

Paper crinkled softly and the ends of the scrolls dug into her stomach as she clutched them tight.

So he saw. Glimpsed beyond the façade. In this way, there was no point in trying to maintain it any longer. Let him look once more and see all.

"Perhaps I do," she breathed. In the quiet, the last scrolls fell from her grasp and onto the floor. Hands were freed only a moment then fingers gripped at gold and fabric, and tore it free from around her face and head. "Would you fulfill the expectations of a fellow priest?"

Only for him had the wall of grace and composure come thundering down, revealing the great cat prowling within, charmed only by the bravery of an equal and devouring all others.

She would grant him the chance at what he had asked for. With any hope, he might succeed where all others had failed.

His lips found their way to her neck. From the fullness of his voice's depths, he murmured a correction against her skin, "Priestess."

With a dull thud, her headdress hit the floor.

She drew closer, eagerly, into the arms which wove around her, and pressed her form to his. Whispering quickly, she lay a hand onto his arm, "I have no more forgotten I was a woman than you have, Set."

"Isis." The heat of his breath danced against her neck. "No more of your quips now. There isn't time."

She felt the warmth of his body augment her own as she was still, willingly enveloped, with nothing more to hold her up than him and the fixture at her back.

"I am aware we –" Her breath caught in her throat, words breaking as he had willed them away with a nip of his teeth.

Her then-heavy lids slipped closed over a pair of ocean-hued eyes while the minute sound of lips against skin became the quiet accompaniment to the thrum of swift pulses. Then came short notes of her own smooth voice, urging hums and small gasps that stirred about the senses, if his sounds in turn served to indicate, little injections into the silence, as acute as if his lips were fixed at her ear.

He was hasty, his mouth searing her skin along the curve of her neck and shoulder where cool gold did not cruelly hide her softness from him.

And her hands roamed, incautious in their reach for every available inch of him, memorizing and re-memorizing the hard lines and planes of his body. They were content to remain only in his hair, twisting into the thick strands as she pulled, making him know her impatience without words.

He abandoned her shoulder immediately, his face leveling to its place just above hers as his eyes moved over her face, searched. And she knew what he sought, her eyes, now brightened with the lust only he evoked within her. The calm blue was gone and left in wake intensity like ocean waves angrily thrashing the sand in attempt to claim the one who would dare stand ashore and challenge her, the one aware of the risk when diving into the wild waters but still of the mind to do so, determined to take the impossible reward.

He dared.

Leaning down, he carried all the intent to wage an open attack against her lips with his own.

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><p><strong>. : End 1 : .<strong>

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><p>Thank you for bearing with me during revision. I hope you like it so far. Reviews are always appreciated.<p> 


	2. Beginning of the End

**T**his is more of the revised edition. This took _way_ too long because I kept nitpicking it to death only to have it mostly stay like it was before. Mostly... Apologies on the wait guys.

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><p><strong>. : Dances with Fate : .<strong>

Chapter 2 : The Beginning of the End

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><p>The raspy shriek of blackbirds woke her. A pair left dark, tufted feathers along her windowsill and beyond, morning light poured in through the glass panes, illuminating the slowly swirling dust.<p>

As she sat up in bed, the duvet fell away. She laid a hand over her chest as if to slow the erratic beats of her heart but all she gained was sudden knowledge of her skin being warm to the touch. Too warm.

The images and the sharp detail entwined in them swam in her mind.

Where in Ra's name had the dream come from?

This new puzzle taking residence her mind, Ishizu slipped from bed and carried out the routine: a short shower, dressing for work, light breakfast, and a final check in the mirror.

As usual, not a hair was out of place but the young woman's eyes lingered on her reflection. Her neck looked bare, she thought suddenly, and imagined a familiar length of gold encircling it. The silly notion banished, she left her apartment and began the short walk to the museum.

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><p><strong>. : : .<strong>

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><p>The front doors closed noiselessly behind her. Only the light from the front windows filtered through the front hall and lobby where the rest of the museum was shrouded until Ishizu flicked on a handful of switches in the control box.<p>

The smaller lights came to life with a collective hum only audible at times like this, when the museum was not yet open. And, in the relative silence, last night's dream came to mind.

The characters were all too familiar however, two members of Pharaoh Atem's council of six, and incidentally, the two which she herself and Seto Kaiba existed as the reincarnations of. Except, Kaiba did not believe he was a reincarnation or if he did, he'd taken great pains to try and appear indifferent.

But a dream such as this was the highest kind of proof, even Kaiba must have trouble arguing against such a thing. If he had to anyhow, it was not as if she was going to inform him about the dream.

Though what was she to make of this? There must have been a reason for the dream. Or...

Was it a memory?

This was the only question she felt she could answer with certainty. Yes it had been a memory.

Ishizu's feet carried her through the museum automatically, she walked through the different wings of the building and turned on sections of larger lights clustered over varying exhibits. All the while she thought but arrived at no conclusion.

In all she knew about the Priestess Isis, there was no record of any sort of relationship with Priest Set outside of the mutual companionship they might have maintained out of necessity. They both served the Pharaoh after all. Yet now revealed was the age of their friendship and how they had moved beyond it...

Why was it so important that she know this now?

Unfortunately, she had more questions than answers. They plagued her mind through the day like a puzzle she could not discover the trick of.

Even the queries from a bright group of students on a field trip to the museum could not pull her from this puzzle for long.

She stood aside near a glass case containing fragments. It was a favourite habit of hers to imagine the small vessel it had once been and what precious bits it must have contained but there was no such fantasy today.

Pointing and chattering amongst themselves, the teenage students darted from place to place in her exhibit hall jotting down notes all the while. They were in their final year of school, she observed...

Around the age Seto Kaiba had been when they first met in this very museum.

"_Does it matter?"_

Such had been his answers. Deflections. Anything to avoid the truth unfolding before him. Was he too steeped in technology and the trappings of the modern day to readily accept the past..? Admittedly, the reverse was her trouble with the future but at least she tried. That was more than could be said for him.

The process of adapting to the present had been quite an undertaking. She had strived to learn - no - master as much as she could as quickly as possible yet for all that, she knew she was still not modern exactly. Now Seto Kaiba was another story…

Never one to look back. That was him. Someone who wouldn't be caught dead with a history book.

One would think he was trying to escape it. The past, that was. What was so terrible about the man he had once been? The Priest had seemed a just man, even from how little she knew...

Ishizu frowned. There was little reason to be thinking of him or his past lives now.

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><p>Yet it would seem he was inescapable.<p>

"Have you been in contact with Mister Kaiba since you've returned?"

A sidelong glance showed a serious face while she had, for once, hoped to spy the usual sarcasm. The museum director rarely spoke to her at all and then to ask such a question out of the blue… It was not the idle talk one would anticipate over bad coffee in cheap cups.

"Not at all," she returned.

Did people believe those who participated in card game tournaments together actually kept in contact with one another after it was all over? It was not an unusual assumption but then, factoring in Seto Kaiba…

"Probably for the best," he commented shortly and stepped over to offer what was apparently supposed to be a consoling pat to her shoulder though why..?

He had left the break room in the next moment.

Lifting the cup to her lips, Ishizu mused. She was no trouble to the man outside of proposals to support the unfortunately small section of the museum that was devoted to ancient Egypt and… Ah. Of course. A small smile graced her features.

_He fears my involving someone influential to accomplish my vision for this place... _

Funny. That was actually a rather good idea. Only, there was no means to the madness. She'd gained his influence before, saw her choice play out as envisioned while a tournament of international significance unfolded. But... It had taken bribery. This time around, there was nothing she had to offer him.

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><p>Thoughts drifted as she placed a small package on the table near the front door of her home.<p>

With small scratching sounds, the box's sides were pulled open and she extracted the precious piece from its modest wrappings.

After sweeping hair away, her fingers nimbly pushed the ends of the necklace together until they fastened with a snap. The metal was cool on her skin and its familiar weight welcomed.

Vanity led her to the bedroom mirror, as if she needed to to confirm how appropriate the millennium Tauk looked as it graced her neck.

Her fingertips brushed the smooth surface of the eye, skimming the hollow pupil with slow nostalgia. She recalled how this little black indent would glow, a small sign for a piece of great power.

Suddenly her vision darkened. All she could feel was her own senses, of herself, shock making them that much fainter. Without hesitation, her mind was left willingly open to receive...

A vision.

It was dim, with only the light of the moon pouring in from massive windows fit into one wall. Beyond them was the spectacular view of the city in the distance. Familiar clusters of white and yellow lights confirmed.

Domino City.

Here near the outside view was a desk and chair. Elsewhere, there stood a sofa and a handful of bookshelves so overcrowded a light bump might cause an avalanche of paper.

From what she could distinguish, the scene was an office in someone's home.

One door led who knew where while another stood wide open. It was the closed door the Tauk directed visual focus to.

And there was no more need to wonder where the people relevant to this vision were...

The door suddenly opened and out flew a woman. She moved quickly through the office and out the other door. There was little to put to her identity. Dark skin. Darker hair. A gold dress, its length as obscene as its loud hue.

From this, Ishizu easily surmised the truth. The woman was, as it seemed, eager to get away from whoever it was that had requested her particular services.

Ishizu wondered how this stranger mattered. She held no involvement with nor interest in the carnal goings on of others. Or, she hadn't until she caught sight of movement in the room whose door now stood wide.

Short, dark hair... The withering gaze of two familiar eyes... They shot in her direction almost as if he could see her from where she watched the future play out before her.

Sheets draped inelegantly over his lower body as he sat in bed and ran a hand through his hair, a look of frustration manipulating the otherwise appealing features of his face. He looked older than she remembered.

Seto Kaiba.

With a noiseless gasp, her hand fell away from the Tauk and the vision of the future ended.

To even be granted the fortune of seeing visions was one matter but visions like this... The item had almost always shown her the near future, vital points of it but this..?

Could it be, now that the Pharaoh had returned to the past, there was nothing else important to foresee? This reasoning seemed irrational but there _must_ be a reason she had glimpsed into Seto Kaiba's future.

Taking off the necklace, she decided fresh scenery would serve her well and left her apartment.

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><p>How she had ended up in the fashion district was beyond her.<p>

Ishizu had been walking and thinking, a rather dangerous combination in her case, and here it all was around her. Swept-clean stone pathways. The bright storefronts yielding tempting colour and arrangement within. One element to draw in and another to trap: here and there at either side, restaurants and cafés fit between the shops, dark tabletops and chairs luring tired feet while nearby scents sealed the deal.

Slowing when the glossy pages of a menu stationed outside caught her eye, Ishizu flipped between them slowly.

At least the walk had done her some good even if she had ended up much farther from home than planned.

Finding nothing of interest, she let the pages be.

Across the street, there she was. Amidst typical dark heads, a length of blonde more than stood out and she'd have known that painstakingly upkept mane anywhere.

Mai Valentine.

Leaning on one slender arm, the other angled as she flipped through the pages of a magazine.

Ishizu delayed, wondering if it was such a wise idea to approach. Unfortunately she was not given the time to decide as, in the next moment, the young woman's head had risen and a wave only confirmed: Ishizu had been spotted.

It was by Mai's insistence that she finally took a seat.

Before anything was said, a waiter neared and then left with a drink order from the new arrival.

"Fancy meeting you here, Miss Ishtar," Mai drawled as a smile slinked across her lips, knowing and amused altogether. It was all there was to go by as the young woman's eyes were hidden behind an oversized pair of sunglasses.

"You look quite well," Ishizu offered politely and allowed a small smile of her own albeit a kind one.

A pretty sight all made up and outfitted in a surprisingly simple dress. Simple by way of Mai Valentine standards anyway.

"Ha," Mai stated and swept her thick tresses off one bare shoulder, evidently not believing it. "You look like a wreck by the way."

Quite automatically, Ishizu glanced down and smoothed at the fabric of her skirt. Surely it wasn't _that_ bad… She took good care of her appearance, no matter what her brother would argue.

"I meant your face," Mai added with a laugh and slid her magazine aside, "you look tired."

There was little point in denying that. Ishizu sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "Then you judge correctly."

"Going to guess you're probably working too much these days," Mai commented easily, as if stating fact.

There was nothing wrong with hard work. Digging about in the sand or organizing paperwork or any number of various things expected of her. There was so _much _to be done, Ishizu thought. Who else was going to take care of it all? Properly? Her thoughts strayed to unfinished tasks awaiting her the following day.

Reaching for the straw stuck in a half full glass filled with an unsettling shade of pink, Mai spoke up again when her companion failed to, "Unless some stud's to blame?"

It was the humorless kind of joke relying on complete falsehood for any relevance.

Or it should have been anyway... Ishizu felt the corners of her mouth begin to pull into a frown. One she caught too late.

"Oh my god," Mai's voice was hushed with a kind of horrid fascination. She lifted the sunglasses off her nose and positioned them in her hair, staring at her silent guest. "Who is it? Anyone I know?"

Not even 10 minutes and Mai had sunk her claws in for possible gossip. Perhaps that had been the point of the chatter. And Ishizu suspected the woman was quite the one for brandishing secrets to others… If they was worth telling anyhow. And that was the thing…

What had Ishizu ever done that was worth gossiping about?

Absolutely nothing.

Maybe it was some long overdue cry for attention she hadn't taken to indulging in her teenage years. Maybe it was just facts; she couldn't very well start into the truth about the dream - no memory - of the past. Not considering what it had been like.

Still, she might have said anything other than what she did say,"No. I'm afraid you don't know him."

A short screech sounded as Mai pulled her chair up closer and leaned on her arms as if proximity would ensure she didn't miss a detail.

What in Ra's name had she done?

"So spill," Mai rushed. "What's he like? Is he cute?"

There was no 'him'. She'd have to think of something. Someone.

As if on cue, a familiar visage came to mind. The hard, familiar line that one could only assume would pull up into a sneer or nothing else. The uncomfortable severity of those eyes...

No, this was about the priest not his appalling present rendition.

"Cute would not be amongst my choice of words to describe him."

Not even close. For either of the two really.

"Oh then he's not too young," Mai judged aloud, reddened lips pursed in momentary thought.

That was certainly a statement with an unclear answer. The past was thousands of years old… The present version was actually a bit younger than herself however…

Her sleep-addled brain was no help in trying to keep the two separate in her mind at the time.

"Well he's-"

"He's _younger_?" The blonde accused in a loud voice, brows rising. Though it was only for a moment. "Not like I'm one to talk."

Thankfully, Ishizu was spared from answering as the waiter appeared and left a glass before her. Bubbles moved in the dark liquid as the soft drink hissed almost imperceptibly. Still, lifting the glass for a sip, she glanced across the table, not surprised to see Mai staring back and only just beginning to open her mouth again.

"Is he good looking then? Oh wait. Of course he is I mean look at you. You're gorgeous," she waved a hand dismissively, "it's disgusting."

In the lapse in conversation, the yips of a dog were heard as it and the owner strode by.

Ishizu could only wish she didn't know Mai was just buying time until more questions came to mind. But there was little hope to change the subject without being terribly awkward in doing so.

"Well if you're really as tired as you look…" Mai stabbed idly at ice cubes with her straw. "Then apparently he's quite the performer, hm?"

A sly smile curved her colourful lips.

All Ishizu could think of was that word. Performer. Entertainer. Wasn't that the same thing? And setting down her glass, she played with the grey area.

"That would be one way to put it, I suppose."

Then it would seem her fortune had changed. An unfamiliar melody played. Ishizu relaxed in her seat finally and looked on as Mai fished her phone from a bag tucked between her and back of the seat.

"That tournament's not for another two weeks, relax you idiot," she snapped though without any real malice. "Fine we can look at cards... Yeah I'm the greatest, I know. Just meet me over here… At the café from before."

Lowering the phone, she tapped at the screen presumably to end the call and then set it atop the long forgotten magazine.

"Here with the man of the hour," Mai offered by way of vague explanation as she began to pack up after flagging a waiter over. "You're welcome to come with us."

The suggestion would be somewhat more tempting if there were not already problems crowding in from the back of her mind at the mere idea of wanting to clear her mind with nonsense activity.

Besides, if the circumstance was more a date, she would have no desire to play third wheel.

"Perhaps another time."

"At least let me get your address and all that so we can catch up later."

After trading off information, Ishizu took her leave, the identity of Mai's shopping companion not enough to keep her any longer.

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><p><strong>. : : .<strong>

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><p>With a quiet thud, Ishizu placed a thick volume on the nearby nightstand.<p>

As she laid down for the night, a sigh rolled off her tongue.

_Of all people. Him._

First a dream, then a vision, and just to add insult to injury, a lie just a little too closely associated with him. As for the first, before now she had not questioned her visions so much. This was the reason she laid awake for some time, attempting to decipher the indecipherable, until sleep swept over.

* * *

><p>Once more there was a spiral through murky colour. All senses were dampened and muddled and then full with sparkling clarity when the dim scenery washed into view.<p>

Novel and familiar all at the same time.

The library.

And lust.

Once more did she see through borrowed sight, experienced with a borrowed body... Felt the nearby heat of torches, tasted the faint earth in the air, and heard the noises resound perfectly with her ears, like a song she'd heard long ago and now finally recalled the notes...

In their heady act the two figures were defined in the dim, reddened light torches offered, one as curved and soft as the other was straight and solid...

The attack just seconds from being waged landed finally as the Priest initiated the union of their mouths at last. Or, it seemed as if he were going to.

At the last moment he had tilted his head, taking his lips enough out of reach and instead busying them with a small kiss at the corner of her mouth.

Her parted lips drew together in a pursed line apart as she verbalised at his ear, half hum, half groan, a needy noise that carried with it all the protest she had to his teasing.

"Villain," she found the air to hiss at him.

And she was betrayed by her own hands as her fingers clutched at his hair pleadingly.

It was suddenly apparent, somehow, that the Priest's voice had been inherited by his reincarnation... Although he had not once laughed in such a way, the rich sound tainted with much more than amusement.

At her cheek, she felt the corner of his mouth twist up with a smirk.

She spoke once more, a singular demand tinged with equal impatience and desire, "Kiss me."

And so he did, beginning what blazed into a fevered clash of lips and tongues. There was no gentleness to it, only urgency born out of the mutual need of two people and the limited time they had to sate new, equally unfulfilled appetites, if only for a while.

She felt, every ounce, so powerfully it threatened to overwhelm...

Herself and what he felt. Somehow. His talents with the mind making his thoughts known to her now. What of her he craved intermixed with her desires...

Dense haze of arousal,

sweet honey of her mouth,

fire coiling in the core of his being,

slim fingers twisted in his hair,

heat in his blood,

silken softness of her skin,

the hammering pulse in his chest,

curve of her hips fitting against his

aching throb of his lower body,

immovable desire for her and _only _her,

and to complete and be completed...

One of the priest's sinewy arms snaked through the part in the skirt of her robes, disappearing under the folds of fabric as he grasped blindly, soon touching somewhere which made the woman in his hold gasp and tremble and murmur his name all together.

Neither had needed to see. The sensation drew up as if she were engaged in this act herself, his adding to her desire by touch as he felt the dew of her own arousal along his fingertips.

The act was raw. The kind of intimacy never to be spoken of let alone known. Yet it was seen and felt intensely, viewed and truly experienced, horrible and hypnotic, past and present. It was madness, this, meaningless and the answer to all life's questions in one.

The day the Pharaoh had decreed all inter-council liaisons forbidden and the glances the two of them had exchanged…

His later drawing her aside to voice the arrangement which had set all this in motion.

On this night she had dared him to act as he wished. Set into motion was an impossible union, a mutual need for trysts in the dead of night, in any moment they had alone, in small spaces of borrowed time...

Their kiss broke off as her attention was divided, unable to ignore his hand when it was soon joined by another sliding into her robes, pulling aside the fabric in order to reveal all the draped clothing hid away. His fingers found the edges at last and made to draw the skirt of her robes open.

But it was not to be so.

The sound of distant footsteps drifted in from the hall to them.

Each of the two struggled to recover, breaking from their entanglement in a haste. Robes were smoothed of their crowded folds.

Pulses raced for much different reasons now.

They could not be found together at such a time without raising suspicion. Their mutual companionship with one another was well known from the past years in which it had begun, it would be no far step to see their companionship had become more even against the words of the Pharaoh. None of the council could be trusted nor could the palace servants.

There would be punishment for discovery.

"Not a sound." Her words were a quick whisper.

The features of her face were calm, and her form as settled as if she had been put at ease after a walk in the night air. She had always been better at easing into a guise of serenity which was why she had not sent him off and would instead intercept the stranger herself before they reached the library.

Despite all, she saw it in his eyes, a flicker of his hunger for her, no more smothered than her own for him. He was seized with an impulse to claim her lips once more which could not be resisted and her without the will to resist.

With a final, ravenous kiss, he allowed her to depart, robes billowing after her.

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><p><strong>. : End 2 : .<strong>

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><p>If you read, review please? Feedback is very encouraging for me! Considering this was a revision, I would definitely like to know what you thought.<p> 


	3. Tarnished

This is more of the revision. It's been way too long, I know. I sincerely apologise for that… Chapter due to live up to its rating, you've been informed.

Without further ado, enjoy.

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><p><strong>. : Dances with Fate : .<br>**Chapter 3 : Tarnished

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><p>That morning she woke flushed.<p>

And with a heart pounding against her ribs, she trudged to the bathroom.

Under a cool torrent from the showerhead, she found her thoughts wandering to places unexplored.

Ever so often, rumours would surface, photos of him and strangers as glossy magazine covers. There was never any truth, she suspected, he wasn't terribly personable as far as she knew. Why tolerate it then..? Of course there was his wealth to consider but perhaps...

Well... he might have a sex life.

The idea made her stomach twist but the thoughts continued.

If he was anything like the man Priest Set had been...

Gracelessly, Ishizu snorted, clutching the bar of soap in hand before it slipped. Doubtful. He was young. And youth generally granted inexperience... disappointment...

_He's only seventeen._

No... The short number of years passed mentally ticked off one by one while the loud pattering of water drowned out the mewling just outside the door.

_He's... He must be at least twenty one or two now..._

Twenty something and... and given that sexual prime was supposedly meant to manifest in said age range...

_Surely my heart will outweigh the feather._

The water cut off with a hiss. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her shivering form. Long black strands were peeled from her skin and little tangles from around her necklace as she squeezed out excess water.

As far as he was concerned at least there was a chance for some activity. This was more than what could be said for her.

The frown claiming her features was wavy through the light fog over the mirror.

Lying to Mai had been foolish. A relationship was hardly a necessary thing in life and the desire to generate gossip had been a terrible thing... if not the smallest bit exciting...

Still, were they to cross paths again, Ishizu vowed to correct the issue.

* * *

><p>The evening found her in the hall.<p>

Marik's sigh drifted through the phone as he complained. "You never have anything to tell me that _doesn't_ have to do with the museum."

Cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, Ishizu stifled a sigh of her own and continued scribbling away in a notebook while her brother ranted.

"–and why stay in Japan then?"

He knew why.

"If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times over," she said, "I am the only person suited for the job for the time being."

The pen went to her mouth for a moment, hand untangling a twist in the phone cord.

"But_ okhti_," he was whining now, "it's boring without you. And I'm tired of cleaning everything myself."

Removing the pen, she answered, "then request Odion's help. I am not returning just to play custodian, _akhi_."

He sighed gustily. "You're still boring. Is there really nothing going on? At all?"

Everyone wanted gossip, it seemed.

"By your standards, perhaps..." she trailed.

Pen hovered over paper.

There were the memories. The powers of the Millennium Tauk returning. All anything but boring.

"Ishizu?"

"Sorry, something came up. I'll call back when I can."

No one needed to know about any of this. At least not yet.

The called ended and she placed another, just gathering together the right words before the tone prompted for her message. She gave one, milling through a standard greeting before she finished -

"If he has returned from Egypt or if there is another way to get in contact, I would appreciate the chance to speak with Yuugi. The matter is an urgent one…" she suppressed an exhale and hung up.

For a moment, she stared at the phone and thought to call Seto Kaiba.

But it would accomplish nothing. There was no way to ask the man about his nights without the questions sounding suspicious for one reason or another, even less way to be sure he might even be honest. She would be alone with the dreams. It was some wonder if they might continue...

* * *

><p>The murky blend of colours spiralled slowly, the hues swam into their right places, sharpening the picture and bringing back a swarm of sensations once more.<p>

In the hall, torchlight danced along the billowing red which followed the Pharaoh. She turned and took another path. Underfoot, sand crunched then stone scratched. Quickly.

The hour was late, perhaps he had made to retire...

Darkness gathered around her more steadily, her steps grew more purposeful in passing along corridors and entries unseen, chambers unlit.

Her own smooth voice the first noise in the dark. "It was a small matter."

The scene was now another space formed out of the same laid stonework of the library before. A room amidst darkened apartments.

Its space stretched back at one side and led out to a balcony. The silk curtains customarily closing it off in the day were drawn aside to welcome in the night. Pale light poured into the length of the room, nearly reaching the entryway as it painted all the angular shapes in shadow and silvery tone.

She pulled her headdress off and walked slowly farther in, avoiding a tilted stone in the floor as simply as if she did so every night.

He had warned her of it a year ago.

Ishizu felt the coolness of the night air as if it were breezing across her own skin... and it could do nothing to quell the little flame flickering back to life within her, within the Priestess, both with and without her willing it.

Her footsteps stopped suddenly as did her heart for a moment. There was no one here...

The bed only a pace from her was empty, its sheets wholly undisturbed.

Within her, she felt the heat begin to diminish.

Perhaps he had ventured elsewhere, she thought, resolving to put out fire with the application of time. She did the same on occasion. Very well, she would wait. At the very least she wished to speak with him even if she was not so sure what conversation might entail…

Suddenly something brushed her back. Her pulse fluttered wildly in her breast, skin tingling with her anticipation of the unknown. She was still, as if expecting the contact once more. It arrived in the form of an arm sliding around her waist.

And there was no need for noise, she knew who it was, knew and yielded to the desire to willingly press back against the warm body behind her. To feel the deep lines of his chest against her back again. To hear the sultry richness of his voice in her ear. To know what it was like to do indulge without concern. To feel mutual need blaze to life where it had only just begun before.

Her hair was swept aside by a quick hand, exposing the curve of her neck to the coolness of the night air and the warmth of his breath. A shiver drew down her spine and she felt his lips.

Once.

Again.

Then more. In gradual haste.

A tendril of heat coiled in her stomach, under his arm, twisting with growing impatience.

In vain.

"He asked that I meet him again..." was her hurried whisper. "When I was at liberty... I told him I was not yet..."

A seeming promise given for her presence elsewhere soon...

Her slim fingers found the arm wrapped around her and pressed. There could be no more of this teasing while she was expected elsewhere and certainly not within Set's quarters.

She felt him laugh, a small rumble in his chest as it pressed her back, rich depths pouring into an eager ear, into her flame, fuelling it. A blaze from desire to hunger.

Oh his voice.

Priest Set's voice... Seto Kaiba's voice...

His hand joined the other on her, united in the slow effort of touching her through the lengths of fabric separating her skin from his. Only with the knowledge that she must leave had he slowed just as he always did out of a determination to claim her time and of his own selfishness.

It had only ever been in speech, elaboration, talking on and on and never reaching the centre. All just to keep her there a little while longer. He might think she never realised. And now...

In the dark she felt him paint her form with his thirst for her.

Hands. Smoothing over the swell of her chest. Pressing at her stomach. Brushing her thighs. He touched as if with the need to do so. To commit to memory.

This worship of her body.

For the first time.

She trembled. Took one slow breath after another and inhaling the weighty, dark scent that was only his as she breathed him in and fit words between.

_Cease this teasing._

_Do not let it end. _

The conflicting wants were equal.

"The Pharaoh?" his mouth burned the words against her skin and she could not answer.

The Pharaoh..? She'd forgotten.

And when she failed to speak, his voice spilled over her once more. "Not tonight."

She felt his hands end their exploration, one snaking down over her stomach with purpose...

Pushing back against him, her body tensed.

This night she would let him do as he wished. The consequence of the decision washed over her.

Ishizu felt. All she had felt once before and now again, every ounce, and welcomed all that engulfed her...

Dense haze like aphrodisiac. Scorching marks left by his lips. Liquid fire pooling in her very core. An arm flexing around her waist again. Heat warming every single inch of her. The drumming pulse in his chest at her back. Her own heart echoing it. Their bodies fitting together as if they were meant to. Sweet arousal dewing along little petals. Unwavering desire for him and only him. And to be completed and complete.

This decision to act against the very one each of them swore loyalty to... They were damned... They were two unyielding forces meeting, grinding away the surface of the other until they broke open together.

He was everything she was not and she hated him for this. For this.. The way he had tempted her every once and a while... With but a look. But the way he stood. The way he appeared in her mind, fragile formlessness having taken on scale, yet kept warm inside... When he did not speak and then when he did... He was the very man whose sharp tongue she had, in the past, prayed to be cut off... or either restricted to her skin.

Her hand slid over his larger one. Willing. Urging lower. Following as he stole into the folds of her skirt. Pushed with slow obscenity into the bare space between her legs.

Found her at last.

Noise smoothed up her throat, lips parting as a moan eased past. All longing and his name.

He answered in kind, her name inseparable from a groan. His lips brushed her skin as he murmured. "Gods how often I've thought of this."

And he touching with cruel lethargy, fingers drawing over slick shapes, lingering for curiosity of them.

"Yes," she gasped to answer his questions, to explain her hunger for him.

For everything.

For sense of completion he could fill her with if he would ever stop this play hidden under the fabric draped around both their hands.

Pressing her fingers into the spaces between his, she felt him reach with a single fingertip, feathering tiny, prodding strokes against her centre in a way that threatened her balance. Her back curved as her body arched, desperate for the sense of fulfilment he teased her mind with yet kept just out of reach...

Silvery shades darkened to black. Then more faded. Fast. The taste of the air became stale. Touches grew faint. Hands and breath lost their warmth. His voice lowered to whispers then quieter still until she couldn't make out the words save one.

"...Tomorrow."

* * *

><p>The moon cast white and shadows over wrinkles and crumpled fabric at the end of the bed.<p>

With a gasp, Ishizu woke and set to feverishly untwisting herself from the sheets, breath utterly lost and insides knotted. Quivering fingers touched to her neck, seeking phantom warmth.

He...

It had faded too fast.

She still wanted...

She sat up long enough to peel off her shirt and let it fall on the floor near the blankets.

Too hot.

It was incredible.

And unsettling.

They were not her memories and at the same time they were.

It had been the first chance, for Isis... for her... In this life, she couldn't remember having ever felt, ever _wanted, _so much. Touch. Intentions.

Suddenly, the loud tones of the phone tumbled in from the hallway.

Turning her head, Ishizu spied the clock on the far nightstand.

4am.

Likely someone across the globe. She waited for the call to end and for the hum of voices leaving messages, they always left messages, except there was nothing...

Then the phone rang once more.

A wrong number. Her brother's persistence. It could have been anything... and she'd gotten up to find out.

"Hello? Ishizu Ishtar spea—"

She'd scarcely gotten the words out before a click sounded at her ear.

Placing the phone back into the receiver with a quiet clack, she returned to bed, let out a breath and closed her eyes.

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><p><strong>. : End 3 : .<strong>

* * *

><p>And there you have it… Apologies once again for taking so long. I'm trying to get back on track and updating regularly…<p>

For some notes:

- "_Surely my heart will outweigh the feather." _This is allusion to ancient Egyptian mythology which affords that, after one passes on, their heart faces judgement by being placed on a scale and weighed against the feather of Ma'at. If the heart was judged as impure, the heart will weigh more than the feather it's balanced against and said heart with be devoured by Ammit; the owner of the heart, respectively, will not reincarnate.** tl;dr** It's like the ancient Egyptian way to say "I'm going to Hell."

_- Okhti_ and _akhi_ respectively are Arabic for "my sister" and "my brother". It is not too unusual to suppose the Ishtars may have known the language and use it from time to time.

If you're enjoying things so far, please consider writing a review and sticking around to see how the story continues to unfold! I'd love at least one review or two for encouragement to continue.


	4. Balance

This is more of the revision. Bit faster than the last update. Yay?

Due thanks go to Alkonost Storm for beta-ing this chapter for me.

I really don't have to tell you to enjoy, hopefully you will considering who's due to show up… Of course those of you around pre-revision already know…

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><p><strong>. : Dances with Fate : .<strong>

Chapter 4 : Balance

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><p>The dream had left her with little rest and she rose in the afternoon, tired, with actions mechanical. She was only dimly aware of overly bright lights above and of materials passing hands.<p>

Fact was unpleasant but numb.

She'd woken from the latest dream wanting the ministrations of someone who hadn't existed for thousands of years… Someone stalking around present day, in body if not in mind.

So he was attractive. Well…

Whatever.

Imagining future mornings with prospects like the recent one, Ishizu sighed.

"Didn't think fruit was all that depressing." A voice spoke from nearby.

She blinked a few times in quick succession.

Thoughts had carried her through habits and out into the city without her paying enough attention.

Lifting the handles of a plastic basket, she shifted them from one hand to the other and tried to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. Who knew how long she'd been standing here, ogling a heaping stand of bright red apples in front of her, lost in her own head?

"Only in the sense that many would pass this section entirely," she offered politely and looked to the stranger.

He stared back, longer than one stranger one at another… He didn't say anything else but remained and for that Ishizu eyed him with a hesitant smile.

In jeans and a tailored fabrics, he didn't appear any better or worse than most young men. Maybe seventeen or eighteen, she guessed at his age. Long, black hair messily tied. A vibrant gaze. Her guess was confirmed when he removed a pair of angular black frames from his face and flashed a grin.

"Mokuba," she declared fondly. "You're nearly as tall as your brother now and every bit as handsome."

He thumbed his nose once and laughed, face reddening with sheepish pride. "Yeah."

Her concerns were gone. She was happy to see the boy - or young man rather - hadn't lost his infectious mirth. "What brings you to this side of the city?"

"Kobe."

"Oh?" Ishizu replied. A little supermarket like the one they were in now was a strange place to look for something so expensive. "Wouldn't you have better luck on the other side of town?"

Rich area. Catering to rich tastes.

"Maybe," Mokuba reasoned. "We've been coming here for years. Seto sometimes comes down here himself. Besides, I don't wanna go trying another place when's he's already cranky."

He looked unconcerned about the subject of his elder brother's supposed ill temperament.

A frown broke through Ishizu's calm exterior. Seto Kaiba wasn't the only one in a mood.

"What about you?"

"I am well."

"I meant what're you here for," Mokuba corrected, eyeing her like he knew something she didn't. He was as quick-witted as his brother, apparently.

"A little of everything I suppose," she said, glancing at the varied contents in her basket. Everything today apparently - she hadn't been paying much attention - consisted of familiar, pasty-related ingredients and a can or two for the cat. "I… decided to make something special this weekend."

"Something sweet?" He asked, stepping over to poke through the assortment.

"A favourite dessert of mine, yes," she informed him. "I would be pleased to have you try some."

It had been a while since she'd made anything for anyone besides herself.

"Alright," he cheered and headed off past her before calling back, "I'm gonna see the butcher, then we can go to the house!"

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><p><strong>. : : .<strong>

* * *

><p>The young man lazed over the countertop, a look of impatience decorating his face, and sighed loudly enough for her to hear.<p>

"It'll be about half an hour or so," she assured him and clicked off the oven light.

The younger Kaiba was one for sweets, she was learning.

The kitchen in the mansion was a chef's dream: a line of sleek appliances and gleaming marble counters. No expense had been spared. Though the impression of the technology was largely lost to her.

The pantry itself was bigger than her apartment's bedroom. The stock cluttering its shelves, together with the refrigerator's contents, reflected surprisingly modest tastes with the exception of the new addition from Mokuba's trip and an exorbitantly-stocked liquor cabinet nearby.

She'd been wary of being on the premises since she had no wish to cross paths with Seto Kaiba but Mokuba had assured her that his elder brother would be out clear until dinnertime. By then, she'd be back on the other side of the city.

A number of bowls and spoons were swept into warm, sudsy water where Ishizu began to clean them carefully after making sure the sleeves of her dress were still neatly rolled up past her elbows.

"You don't have to do that. We've got a maid for that kinda stuff."

"It's no trouble."

A short, comfortable silence lapsed in conversation. And for a few minutes, there was only the soft slosh of water and the occasional squeak of a wash cloth.

"Are you okay?"

Ishizu glanced over to see Mokuba's eyes directed up at her, the most of his expression hidden behind folded arms. It was clear he had recognized her little slip up earlier for what it was.

"I have had strange dreams of the past lately," she admitted.

There wasn't any harm in telling him; he wouldn't have pressed for details unlike a certain other younger brother.

"Like the opposite of the necklace, right?" He nodded in her direction.

Right, according to what he might know, she realised. There were visions of the past and the future both but now was not the time for corrections and explanation.

"What's wrong with dreams?" he asked.

"They are…"

_Highly suggestive_.

Ishizu had trailed, choosing to withhold details from impressionable ears. Being in his company reminded her of being around Marik and neither of the two needed to know the whole truth where this was concerned.

"They involve your brother," she said.

His brows drew together over his glasses. He knew his brother's aversion to anything Egypt-related better than anyone else. There wasn't much he could say by way of reassurance here.

"I believe everything happens for a reason but I have yet to decipher this," she said. Of course there was a little more. A little she hadn't given so much thought to until now, "I suppose there is some message to pass along to him."

Mokuba brightened up, seeing the problem hadn't yet moved to the one about trying to talk to his brother.

"I know you'll figure it out."

Ishizu smiled. At least someone was certain of her talents even if the encouragement was unknowingly misguided. She wasn't sure she even wanted to do any deciphering as far as the memory dreams. With any hope, the reason for them would surface soon and they might go away.

"I hope so," she said, setting the overflow of dishes on the counter. Then she had a thought. "Did he tell you much about the past…?"

It would explain what the younger Kaiba seemed to know.

"Some." He shrugged. "Not really… Yuugi told me."

"I see."

Conversation dissolved once again and she went back to washing dishes.

"Huh," Mokuba mumbled into his sleeves. "Seto said something about dreams this morning. I think he didn't get much sleep and that's why he's so—"

A glass bowl hit the floor, erupting into a twinkling chorus as it shattered at Ishizu's feet.

The young man jumped up from the counter. "Are you okay?"

"Stay there," she warned, stooping to carefully gather up the larger fragments on the floor.

"I'm gonna go find the maid. Be careful!"

His footsteps faded as she stood up. Her hand shot out at the counter to steady her balance.

Kaiba was subject to the dreams too…?

It sounded like a cruel joke.

Standing here in his house, she felt suddenly exposed, as if she'd stepped into a cage and stood stripped of everything and left on display. Unlike him, she identified with her past life, accepted it as part of who she was. To realise what he'd seen…

Then she heard it.

A single greeting drifted in from down the hall and made her heart stop.

"Hey, Seto!" Mokuba's voice was as cheerful as ever, "I thought you weren't gonna be back 'til tonight."

Something shuffled, like a coat being taken off.

"Plans changed."

The deep baritone of his voice caused goosebumps to raise along her bare arms.

For a terrible moment, she considered ducking behind the counter.

But he walked in then, with Mokuba on his heels.

It was the worst possible moment for her observational nature to show but it did. She eyed his figure as he stopped cold, just steps into the room.

The penchant for dark colours was apparent in the form of black pants and a similarly dark button down. Together they left no illusion about his stature. He was as she remembered, a curious balance, tall and taut, the right amount of everything all over.

The tie was rare though. In the middle of pulling it loose from his neck, his hand was frozen around the white knot. It fell away then, stirring Ishizu from her silent observations.

His words were deliberately slow as if she was too stupid to understand otherwise. "What the hell are you doing here?"

As easy as it would have been to sink to the level of immaturity he had clearly not outgrown, even _if_ his face wore the recent few years well, she could not. Not even with her heartbeat pounding in her chest, a fair excuse.

"Good afternoon, Kaiba," she said simply.

She would match him on a level she knew could, his confidence against hers. Never mind that she was feigning. The last thing she needed was to give him something to use against her and her case of nerves was one such weapon.

"Get out."

She blinked. So much for his trademark apathy.

"Seto, don't be so mean," Mokuba objected. "I invited her."

His gaze hadn't moved from her even if the cool words were directed elsewhere. "Then you can be the one to show her out."

"It was just an accident!"

Seto Kaiba's gaze roved, noting said accident scatter across the floor.

"It's quite alright, Mokuba," Ishizu intercepted and broke from the visual static to offer the young man a small smile. He wouldn't have understood this wasn't about the glass. "I do not wish to overstay my welcome."

"But–"

"Good," Kaiba drew her gaze once more when he interrupted, "and the next time my brother tries another stupid idea like this, I trust you understand that you're not welcome in this house."

"Seto..." Mokuba sounded crestfallen but was ignored once more.

"Is that clear?"

Ishizu opened her mouth to answer but was cut off when he amended his statement, evidently remembering a base he hadn't covered.

"I don't care what kind of Egyptian nonsense you might come up with in the future so consider this a warning when you start to think offering your so-called wisdom is worth a visit."

The sting was so well-anticipated that she hadn't so much as batted an eyelash. "I wouldn't dream of it."

His eyes narrowed though nothing more was said.

The matter settled, Kaiba stepped further into the kitchen, stopping when glass crunched underfoot. "Get the maid."

The younger Kaiba disappeared once more.

"There's no need," Ishizu ventured. Crouching, she began to gather up the tinier pieces with the help of the wet cloth she borrowed from the sink. "I have no intention of abandoning a mess I made."

"Leave it," was his demand from above.

She meant to be responsible. If, in doing so, she happened to grate the nerves of a generally infuriating man, then she considered it a pleasant bonus. Or, it should have felt more like one than it did…

"I'm fully capable of handling broken glass," she insisted even while the hands hovering over the floor shook.

The things she'd remembered wanting.

The things she'd wanted...

He _knew_.

The sooner this was cleaned up, the sooner she could get as far away from the mansion as possible.

"I'd rather not have blood all over the floor."

Ignoring him, she continued gathering up the pieces. They seemed to multiply every time she grouped some together. And seeing as the cloth wasn't doing much good, she dropped it.

Somehow, she managed to match his cool tone with one of her own, "I wasn't aware you had any interest in my well-being."

"I don't."

His voice suddenly nearer to her ear made her gasp and stumble back.

Into him.

At once she felt him tense as if his anger was gathering up for the inevitable outburst.

Ishizu tried to right herself... only to feel an arm snake around her waist...

And then it was her turn to tense up.

"Stop moving," his breath warmed her ear. "You'll get us both cut up."

Unfortunately, he was right... Any sway either forward or backward and one or both of them would likely end up landing in broken glass. In the meantime, they were apparently stuck in some board game-esque balancing act… Not that that could ever be but only if it were… Ishizu wished. that is was anything but what it was.

The place where his arm touched felt as if it burned through her dress.

A slow breath brought a new realisation. A scent. Something decadent… and saturated with strange familiarity…

All she was could barely be contained now… as if a single touch would cause her to burst into fragments strewn all over the tile floor with the glass…

Angled awkwardly against him as he kept her still, she felt the knot of his tie nudge between her shoulder blades… the hard lines of his chest press her back as it rose and fell with his steady breath… She didn't move. She couldn't.

How long had it been…?

A long-neglected sense of desire had flickered to life within her for all the wrong reasons. Not him. Not Kaiba. Her sensibility was melting.

It was him.

He was the same.

"How greedy." His voice was startlingly low, tainted with a kind of rich darkness she'd never heard from him before… Or… that she hadn't heard from him for so many years… It challenged somehow, dared her to try to unnerve him the way he had her. "Haven't you had enough..?"

No.

"I–" she faltered.

Her calm façade had come crashing down at last.

And she could not make her limbs break the entanglement any more than she could think what with him nearly encircling her.

Suddenly he shifted, pulling her up with him as he stood. Then… he let her go.

Wordlessly, she watched him step away from the glass in search of something to scrape the bits out of the soles of his boots. Then her gaze fell to the sparking shards at her feet, Ishizu all too aware of the space separating them now.

The flame had been snuffed out, leaving her to wrestle with herself. What was wrong with her…?

Reluctantly, she sought his eyes and found he had no expression to speak of.

Then one side of his mouth lifted.

She realised.

He was going to do it again, use what he learned, _remembered_, just to ruffle feathers. There wasn't a doubt in her mind.

This was all just a game now.

The only question was, what did he consider victory..?

Ishizu took her time unfolding her sleeves back down to her wrists as she gave herself time to recover. Calculate. Risks versus rewards. How far he might intend this to go.

There was no reason to do this. There was no telling what she might be getting herself into but…

She was curious.

Taking a breath, she lifted her head and smiled at him.

Whatever he was playing at, she would not act the part of the simpering female and let him win. He wasn't the only one who could get under the other's skin and she was going to make sure he understood that.

His smirk vanished.

Let the games begin.

* * *

><p><strong>. : End 4 : .<strong>

* * *

><p>And there we go! Seto's finally on the scene. Ultimately this turned out mostly like the previous version, some of you might remember, yet with a little fine tuning.<p>

I'll take this moment to note my adopting a new policy. I'd like a review or two. If not then there won't be a new chapter. All my writing is done in a notebook. Much of this fic is already written up (up to 9 or 10 chapters) and it's quite a bit of work to transcribe and format for this website only to have no feedback.


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